


The Whispers of a Lute

by masqueradeofwords



Category: Kingkiller Chronicles - Patrick Rothfuss, The Slow Regard of Silent Things (Kingkiller Chronicles)
Genre: Fluff, Gen, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-21
Updated: 2016-04-21
Packaged: 2018-06-03 13:03:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6611596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/masqueradeofwords/pseuds/masqueradeofwords
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Auri and Kvothe meet on the roof again, but this time Kvothe learns a little more about Auri's past. My first fic. Short and fluffy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Whispers of a Lute

I leaned against the brick, back aching from a long evening bent over my lute. The brick was cold, of course, as I had expected it to be. After all, no student would dare sneak out to light a fire at this time of night, not in Master Hemme’s classroom. Well, no student except me, that was. But tonight I sat on a cold rooftop plucking at my lute strings for a different purpose. You were coming.

 

Our meetings had grown scarce these days due to the work that Kilvin and Elxa Dal were piling on my shoulders, a fact that I resented despite my thirst for knowledge. As fascinating as the Fishery was, with the pounding of metal by sympathetic light, it seemed dull and lacking compared to your wonders. I flexed my fingers, resting them lightly on the strings. It seemed like I would have to let you know that I was here. A nudge on a couple of the strings, a small tweak, set them right. The lute was a beautiful thing, as it always was, and I sighed with happiness just to trace its moonlit curves. Now to play.

 

A feather would have bowed the strings more than my fingertips did as I brushed the strings. Softly, slowly. Just enough for a whisper to escape the instrument. Now a bit harder, firmer, a strong stag instead of a timid fawn. This time the notes burst forth from the strings, like they had been born from my hands. Now for a song...after a moment of speculation, I settled on a lovely ballad. It was yet another slow song devoted to a boy falling in love with a girl, another haunting melody that left the most vulnerable of listeners dabbing at their eyes. I dared not sing the words, wondering if my strong baritone voice would cause you to run. Instead, I simply played.

 

One note, then another, and before long my fingers were weaving a tapestry of invisible threads. I could see its colors sailing from the strings, even if no one else could, as I used the lute as a loom to craft my story. The deep red of blushing love, tender and true, and the gold of lusty enchantment spiraled together in a dance of passion, while all the time a silver thread, mostly embodied by whole notes, danced next to it. Smoothly, beautifully, and wildly. Just like you, just like the moon. It was not loving, nor was it hateful or sad. It was, of course, the reason why I picked the song. 

 

After a few repetitions, my fingers moving in synchrony with the strings, I played the last few notes. They were silver. And then you appeared at the edge of the rooftop, carrying a basket. The basket was new. You were the same as always, wisdom with a puff of golden hair and the dress. The one I had given you months ago. I smiled, a special smile that I reserved for you. Caring, careful, a smile that neither beamed nor fell short but conveyed happiness. Excitement. 

 

You skipped easily across the roof, bare feet landing lightly and silently on the tiles. Your face had lit up when you first set eyes on me, and when you sat down precisely in front of me your cheeks still glowed with an inner light, a sun of sorts to complement the moon of your soul. I was that sun.

 

“Kvothe.” Your voice implied no reproach, for which I was grateful considering how little I had seen you recently.

 

“Auri.” I mirrored you carefully, keeping my tone level and clear. A windless day, a silent lake. A bright sheet of metal waiting to be riddled with sygaldry. 

 

You leaned forward and opened your palm, revealing a feather. "It's from a dove. It's full of wind, and sea foam, and children's laughter. What gifts have you brought for me?” Leaning forward slightly, eyes shining and round like tiny moons. Always moons. Head tilted, lips slightly pursed, you were a bird, like a sparrow or a robin. Small, frail, beautiful, poised to fly.

 

I grinned wryly, holding up my lute. My life. “Music,” I replied, “filled with moons and lost love. And,” I reached behind me, producing a tiny copper ring that I knew would fit your slender finger. “A copper ring.” I waited for your next question.

 

It never came. You sat quietly, looking at the ring, eyes glazed over, your hands silent and still in your lap. Frail frame trembling, hair all startled and frayed. A second, then two, and your pale pink lips remained sealed.

 

I set down my lute, neck prickling with worry. “Auri? Are you okay?” I hoped with all my strength, forcing my will on the universe, praying to Tehlu that you wouldn't flee now. Not now. But you stayed. And then you spoke. “Elodin was wearing a copper ring that day.” I looked at you, searching for some semblance of the Auri that I knew, but you were gone. Your voice was weak and trembling instead of high and wispy, and your eyes no longer sparkled with specks of light. A question crawled across my tongue, but I ground my teeth and dug my fingers into my trousers. It would leave bruises, but I knew that you would bolt if I inquired again. Instead I waited. 

 

You almost whispered the story that came next, the words barely heard over the howling wind that had started hunting the sky. “The day he was taken. They tried to take me too. He had a ring. Like that one. But larger. I fought them. I shouldn’t have. They punished me for it. But I escaped. And I came to the Underthing. I knew it was here. I’d found it before. I stayed. They came looking. I hid. I hid. Here I am. Bottles of sunlight and rings filled with secrets and bronze gears all filled with hope and joy and the bottle of holly so bright red the color of your hair just like all the Ciridae and the smooth bedsheet so perfect no wrinkles no loose threads perfect just like you my Ciridae and the world is starting to grow so dark I can’t take it anymore, I can’t, I can’t….”

I stared helplessly as you devolved into chanting, bony arms wrapped around hollow knees and eyes darting around like a frightened rabbit. Reaching one hand around behind me to grab some of the water that I had brought, and looking away for one second. It was too many, of course. You were gone, taking your sun and moon with you and leaving only a dove feather behind. I sighed, my head in my hands. The howling was gone, and the moon had clouded over. It was several long minutes, silent with only the distant singing of stars, before the whispers of a lute blew across the courtyard in a wind that rustled the leaves clinging to the apple trees.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed, feel free to leave comments including constructive criticism, which I am always looking for! This has not been beta-ed yet, so please take that into consideration. I am thinking about making this part of a larger fic later...thoughts? 
> 
> Disclaimer - I do not own and I am not any part of the Kingkiller Chronicles franchise, its books or its merchandise.


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